3 O, enter his gates with thanksgiving and song; Your vows in his temple proclaim; His praise in melodious accordance prolong, 4 For good is the Lord, inexpressibly good, His mercy and truth from eternity stood, 366 P. M. H. WARE, JR. Easter Hymn. 1 LIFT your glad voices in triumph on high, Loud was the chorus of angels on high, 2 Glory to God, in full anthems of joy; The being he gave us, death cannot destroy. Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow, If tears were our birth-right, and death were our end; And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend. 367 8 & 6s. M. C. SMART. The X Am. 1 WE sing of God, the mighty source From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes Commence, and reign, and end. 2 The world, the clustering spheres, he made; The glorious light, the soothing shade, Dale, champaign, grove and hill; The multitudinous abyss, Where secrecy remains in bliss And wisdom hides her skill. 3 Tell them I AM, Jehovah said To Moses, while earth heard with dread; At once above, beneath, around, 368 8 & 6s. M. ANONYMOUS, "Thy Will be Done." 1 My God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home, on life's rough way, O, teach me from my heart to say, 2 Though dark my path, and sad my lot, 3 If thou should'st call me to resign What most I prize — it ne'er was mine, – "Thy will, my God, be done." 4 Renew my will from day to day, 369 P. M. CAMERONIAN HYMN, Prayer of the Persecuted. 1 OH thou who dwell'st in the Heavens high Where the dazzling fields never needed light 2 Though shining millions around thee stand, 3 Our night is dreary, and dim our day; 4 The powers of darkness are all abroad, 5 Thine aid, O mighty God, we crave, 370 P. M. GEORGE HERBERT. Praise. 1 KING of Glory, King of Peace, And, that love may never cease, 2 Thou hast granted my request; Thou didst note my working breast; 3 Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing thee, And the cream of all my heart 4 Though my sins against me cried, And alone, when they replied, Thou didst hear me. 5 Seven whole days, not one in seven, In my heart, though not in heaven, 6 Small it is, in this poor sort E'en eternity's too short To extol thee. 371 P. M. WARREN ST. COL. Triumph. 1 DAUGHTER of Zion, awake from thy sadness! Awake! for thy foes shall oppress thee no more; Bright o'er thy hills dawns the day-star of gladness, Arise! for the night of thy sorrow is o'er. 2 Strong were thy foes, but the arm that subdued them And scattered their legions, was mightier far; They fled like the chaff from the scourge that pursued them, Vain were their steeds and their chariots of war. 3 Daughter of Zion, the power that hath saved thee Extolled with the harp and the timbrel should be; Shout! for the foe is destroyed that enslaved thee, Th' oppressor is vanquished, and Zion is free. |